Once Upon A Time
by Myurra-K
Summary: Not every 'Once upon a time' ends with a 'Happily ever after', but that's okay, they can make their own story in hell, because that's where they know they're going. Heaven doesn't reward cheaters and liars, traitors and betrayers. Fine by them. K2


**Once Upon A Time**

**+MyurraKitty+**

_~`;'~ It doesn't always end p__redictably ~`;'~

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Once upon a time, I could control myself.

Now, I can't. Every time I'm near him I just cant. I know I shouldn't be thinking or feeling like this, especially considering he's off limits, I've had several ass kickings over the fact. But three stitches, a broken bone, several bruises and a black eye later I'm still unable to stop myself. But the thing is that I know that I wont ever be restricted and nor will he be. It's our little game, one that I found he's willing to play.

Once upon a time, I could lose myself.

No more. I'm unable to do so, because now I know that this is all carefully planned just like one of his essays. Now, I know that I have to look over my shoulder constantly whenever we are even sitting in front of the window of my room together. Its almost as though I'm unable to enjoy myself and yet, I still do. Because I'm there with him. No matter what way I look at it, I still win.

Once upon a time, I could hate myself.

Ha, if I tried this then no doubt I would get my ass kicked by him. He's very steady on self-preservation. I guess that when one dies constantly, they lose quite a fair bit of their self preservation. It's something that I guess he taught me. Now I can't help but glare at any past-death-related-object simply because I no longer trust them. I guess I think that sometimes we could just walk away from this game he's got me playing, but its not over until the cards are in my favour. And for once in my life, I want them to be.

Once upon a time, I could trust myself.

Pfft, as if. You try sitting next to the hottest and most certainly the most off limits guy who also happens to be one of your best friends. See how much you trust yourself not to let your hands wander. Then again, I don't need to stop myself, that look in his eyes of pure satisfaction at our little game is enough to let me do what I want. But it makes me think, if we were to stop this, could I still sit beside him and not touch him? That one remains unanswered by either of us.

Once upon a time, I could love myself.

Come again? How contradicting can I be? I guess that I can no longer love myself either. Because even if I'm doing what he wants, and what I want, we are still betraying our friends by not letting them know, and my friend who is also his lover. This sneaky little act we pull makes me wonder, am I really a good person?

Once upon a time, I could ignore myself.

Like I'm able to ignore myself now that he's willing. How is it that as soon as things are set in place, it's so hard to stop? It's like a drug, you need more and more of it as the effects are less and less. Now, I'm getting too much of a buzz out of this to just turn away. Kinda like tip, once your in, your in. You only have one way of getting out and that is to play along.

Once upon a time, I could kill myself.

I tried that once when he showed up. If only I had killed myself quicker, then I would have at least had a few days before I had to experience the pain he put me through. Sure he kicked my ass and I deserved it, but then he ignored me. I seriously thought our game had ended, but I guess he just couldn't stay away from me in the end. He said he understood, but he still didn't like me doing it. And the most ironic thing, I actually stopped.

Once upon a time, I could be myself.

I don't know if anyone agrees with me, but now it feels as though I'm no longer myself. I can't tell if it's a good or a bad thing, but all I know is that it's painful. All my past sins I am no longer able to commit. Because he's there. That controlling bastard has such an effect on me that I actually don't care if he's controlling or stubborn. Not even if he eventually gets bored with our game and tells his lover what's been going on. Not even if I die because of him.

I still remember when I first gave in to my urges and touched him in front of his boyfriend. Of course, his boyfriend being a jock and all, resulted in me getting my ass kicked. But it seemed that he was intrigued as to why I had been so bold. I had no choice but to admit my attraction.

His nervous approach to the subject told me he was wanting to ask me something. When I pointed it out, all he could do is say that he would give it a chance. But of course, the super-best couldn't know. So every day he would come over mine if he wasn't with the super-best boyfriend. At first it was just hanging out that usually ended in touches and kisses.

But then, things got heavy. Too heavy. It was up to me to slow things down, and I ended up asking him what his fascination with having an affair was. An affair with me of all people. He had told me, that even though he was completely and madly in love with his lover, that he wasn't getting what he needed out of what they had. That his lover had been frigid since his first time with his girlfriend before him. Of course, I laughed.

He was mad that I thought it was funny, but he could see my point as well. For that I was glad. I told him that I would only be his first if he was completely sure about it, no regrets. I told him that if he really was in love with his boyfriend that it wasn't the best idea to experience his lust with me first. But I guess he either had it really bad for his boyfriend and was seriously trying to make him jealous, or that he really wanted me.

I like to think that it was because he really wanted me. But I don't like to big-note myself see. And so, I slept with him. For a virgin, he certainly knew his stuff. It didn't take long before sleeping with him became a regular thing, he was one kinky hormonal teen. He was quite into risqué sex, we took our time in school hallways, bathrooms and change rooms.

One day after school, I went to open the door expecting him, only to see his boyfriend standing there. Fright of my life, tell you what. That guy can really pack a punch, too. He told me not to lay another hand on his boyfriend, my secret lover, and that he wouldn't hesitate to kill me. Who does, I come back anyway, but that's not the point.

I was quite torn-hearted when I found out that our other friend had witnessed us 'doing it' in the hallways during class when he was going to the nurse's office and he had told the most unthinkable person. Of course, I don't blame him…alright, I do. That guy was always an asshole. He had no reason prying into our business.

I didn't speak to my lover for at least a week, we never got the chance. It was too dangerous for him to visit me because of his boyfriend, and I couldn't go over his house because his harpy mother no doubt knew about her son's gay cheating on an already gay relationship. Still, it's a wonder the guy's alive after telling his harpy mother something like that!

The first time we did speak to each other, it wasn't exactly words that we used our tongues for if you get my meaning. We ran into each other at a café and we just happened to go to the bathroom at the same time. One thing lead to another and boom. I guess I felt a bit used afterwards, like a major case of wham, bam, thankyou sir. He had left before we said a single word to each other, and once again we didn't speak for another week.

It wasn't until then that I realised I was addicted to him. Because one night, I snuck out. And guess where I went? No, not the front door of Kyle's house, but his window. I tapped, and surprisingly he let me in as fast as you would pull your hand away from a hot stove…too eagerly. It was odd little things like his speed at getting to me, and the way he kissed me. It was gentle, no where near as lust-filled as it usually was with him. He clung to me like that sticky stuff on the bottom of your shoe when…alright not a good analogy to relate a lover to, but you get the idea.

He had said the most peculiar thing to me as he removed me shirt. He asked me to make love to him. Alright, not like I wasn't shaking in my pants already, but him saying that not only aroused _me_, but my _curiosity_ as well. He asked me to forget about it until afterwards. So I did. I did both things he asked, it was the second time we had slow sex. The first was naturally because he was a virgin, and that was a struggle. But I found it easy this time.

Like I said, odd little things. They started to get me thinking. Like how he cried out my name when he came. He never said my name, and if he said anything, he called the name of his boyfriend or swore at me for making his senses overload. But this time, it really got my mind working.

The tears on his face were all it took for me to ask. And when I did, all I got was the mumble of his boyfriend's name. I was confused, but I didn't push anything. I figured I knew the answer already. I stayed there that night, not a good idea. Did I mention something about his harpy mother earlier? Well, she happened to walk in that morning only to see her son cuddling up to me. Not the best of things for her to see.

Of course, she was straight on the phone to his boyfriend's mother. And guess what? It's really secret and exciting, but I'll tell you…I got another ass whooping. This time, it wasn't just him. My not-so-secret lover watched as his boyfriend and several of our school friends beat me to a bloody pulp. I guess I didn't really add the bit about me laughing the entire time.

You wanna know why I was laughing? Because I figured everything out the moment that he woke up to his mother's screams and attempted to hide my under the bed. I was completely and utterly in love with him, and he was in love with me. But of course, I couldn't tell him that, he had to find out on his own. So I agreed to back off. We stuck to discreet kisses every now and then, and occasionally he snuck over my house, but I guess you would think that after being caught twice we would give it up already.

Nothing could have happened while he and his boyfriend were together.

One night, he came knocking at my window. I let him in, only to be met by a face full of tears and a trembling half-decent body. Taking him in my arms, I lulled him to sleep as he cried, mind ticking over the many possible things that could have caused him to break down like that. In the morning, I got no answer. Instead he sat on the end of my bed, a distant and cold look on his face as he explained to me that this was all a game between us and that it had to end before someone got hurt. I noticed the bruises, the harm his boyfriend was doing to him, and I finally spoke up.

I warned him that I was already hurt, but he would also end up hurt if he did this. He left, ignoring my warning. We were in love, and he couldn't see that. So I stood aside for the last few years of high school, hoping that one night he would come knocking at my window. That one night he would crawl up beside me and fall asleep.

No such luck.

I stuck with watching his longing face every day, I would catch him staring sometimes in class and try my best to ignore it. One time, I swear he seen the tears I tried to hide. Most people seen them. Every bloody day of my miserable life.

Then the most common thing happened; I died.

But it wasn't just any death, I died an excruciatingly long and agonisingly painful death alone in a cold hospital. No one came to visit me, they all accused me for my ex-lover's unhappiness. I have a strange sense of the very day I'm going to die, something I developed a long time ago. The last day in that hospital, he came. I could tell he had been beating himself up over coming or not, and I was thankful he did. I wanted him there, I wanted to feel his skin one last time before I died for a long time. See, when a death for me is painful, I know I'm going to die for a long time.

He approached me cautiously, kneeling beside me and chewing his lip. I tried to ignore him for the most of it, but his words entranced me. He told me about his life from the moment I left it to the moment he had forced me back into it again. And I knew what he was saying.

I stared at him, tears running down my cheeks as he confessed his feelings for me. Confessed that he loved me. I had never seen those green eyes of his so expressive in my life. As soon as he leant foreword to kiss me, my heart stopped. Our lips hadn't even touched yet. The dreadful monitor's whine hit the air like a tone of death. Oddly enough, that's just what it was.

To me, it was as though I had simply had a fitful sleep. Waking up, I realised that I was far too late. It had been six years since I had died, he had probably moved on. Most likely. The thought made my chest pang with pain. I wondered the streets aimlessly, ashamed that everyone knew who I was and yet no one said a thing to me. They pointedly ignored me.

I came across a familiar house, one I never thought I would be visiting. It was abandoned, overgrown and rotting. Out the back it was half burnt down by a fire, four crosses with fresh flowers stood on stakes by what looked to be the frame of the back door. Seemed the residents of that house were dead. What had I missed out on?

The next house I recognised was his. And someone was living there. The moment I walked through the door, I knew he was here. He was in the lounge room, fast asleep. I noticed that there was a recent photo of his boyfriend with his ex before my lover. And almost instantly, I felt the pang in my chest.

Could him and his ex have gotten back together, leaving my lover on his own all these years? Taking a step toward my sleeping lover, he woke with a start. Confused green eyes met my blue ones, and his narrowed. At first, I thought he was unhappy to see me. But he said the only words that I never thought he would say.

"Who are you?"

Now what did I do? My heart was on the floor and being trampled on. I loved him so much and yet I couldn't so much as pull myself together to tell him. I sat beside him, grasping his hesitant hand and staring him in the eyes.

"Kyle, my name is Kenny. We used to be very close." I whispered, scared my voice may break whatever he had left of his sanity.

"Kenny…Kenny as in 'lover' Kenny?" he asked me, though it was more of a statement.

"You remember me?" I asked, a smile coming to my face. I was overjoyed at that very moment just by the mere thought of him remembering me.

"Stan tells me about you every day. Tells me that you are a bad person, and that he wants nothing more than you dead."

"I already know that…" I murmured, my voice a mere rasp.

"Yeah, but he still tells me so. He said that, Once upon a time, you and I did very bad things, things that broke his heart. He says that I regretted doing them, but I loved you too much. Which is why he wants to kill you. And if he did, that me and him would live happily ever after."

"Kyle, please…"

"Get out of my house! Stan says he doesn't want you here. Get out!"

With no choice in the matter, I left. I couldn't stay, it hurt too much. I couldn't see him like this, and know that it's partly my fault he is. Though I know that, deep down, hardly any of this is my fault. If only Stan could have given him what he needed.

Once upon a time, I couldn't fall in love.

But now, I know the fact that I did. Because that same night, as I was huddled in my bed, a knock came on my window. Opening it, Kyle flew onto me, tears in his eyes. He couldn't stop telling me how sorry he was. Told me that Stan was there, if he hadn't have said what he did then they both would have been killed.

It makes me wonder…just what did Stan do to him all those years I was dead?

So once again, we're stuck with secret visits and discreet meetings. Occasionally we meet up for coffee and we've even taken a couple of road trips where I pretended to die the day before and he told Stan that he needed to get away. I guess Stan suspects something, but says nothing. He knows he can't give Kyle what he needs.

And yet, they wont let each other go. I know Kyle's reason, he loves Stan as well, but he doesn't know who he loves more. He assumes it's Stan, but he knows I treat him right. And once again, I allow myself to be used by my best friend and lover. Because he can't let go of his past, and I can't let go of him. We are stuck in this endless circle.

The years have passed, and nothing has changed. And I guess I am starting to realise just what effect this is having on me, this game is something I can't get out of. I know it was started because of curiosity and to spite Stan, and it developed from there, but it seems that within the bounds of our relationship's restrictions, we are only feeling stronger for each other.

And no matter how many times I tell him I love him, he never says it back. And I know that those three precious words that I say to him every night is all that keeps him here. I know he would feel guilty, and I cant tell if that's why I still say it even when I know he wont say it back. I also cant tell if he stays because he never hears it from Stan, and is sick of saying it to him. Maybe he wasted all his un-returned 'I Love You's and has none left to spare for me. Good thing is that my supply is endless.

Once upon a time, I couldn't say 'I love you',

And now, I cant stop saying it. Ironic how things work out, isn't it? But I have decided that tonight is the last time I will say it to him. And if he doesn't say it back, then I wont ever say it again. The thing is, I know he wont say it back, just like every other time. And I know I wont stop saying it. Because I can't help it.

For me, it's a true 'Happily _Never_ After', and I don' give a damn. I'm going to hell _every other day, _what does it matter to me? As long as Kyle goes too, and I know he will. Because heaven doesn't reward those who cheat and lie. Heaven doesn't reward those who consort with a traitor. Heaven just doesn't quite do it for our kind of love.

If there's one thing I've learned with my life, it's something along the lines of this;

Just because things may start with 'Once upon a time,' it doesn't mean they will end with 'Happily ever after.'

But it doesn't stop us from making our own ending. Mybe then we will be able to make our own little 'Once Upon a Time…' with a '...Happily Ever After', I think it may just be a nice change.

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A/N: Really late-night drabble, please forgive any mishaps.

**Please review!** Reviews are like my tarrot cards - they tell me to write!

Love,

~MK


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